


Love makes monsters of us all

by banrionsi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/F, Yes I'll ignore the screams and missing servants, and blood spillages and teleportation via bugs, if it means being remotely within her Lady's orbit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banrionsi/pseuds/banrionsi
Summary: You are the head maid in Lady Dimitrescus castle. When you aren't training the ever new servants and keeping the house in order, you are thinking of the Lady (maybe a little too much). You are loyal to Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters - no matter what suspicious noises you hear from the basement and how your Lady and Mistresses never really seem to eat. Minding your own business and a strong work ethic are the keys to getting by in Lady Dimitrescus castle.Your dedication doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Perhaps the Lady holds a special admiration for you too...
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 169





	Love makes monsters of us all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil intro:)

Oh God there is something _wrong_ with you. There must be. 

Addies shoulders keep heaving up and down with quiet suppressed sobs, little whimpers reaching you even through the moody howl of the wind outside. Every so often she’ll slip her hands from the dishwater to shake them dry and then wipe the mucus and salty tears from her face with the hankie from her sleeve. It’s a pathetic sight, truly, and you know the decent thing to do would be to run your hand across her back and tell her to sit down and take five minutes to herself but…well, the cutlery won’t clean by itself.  
  
She isn’t moving as fast as she should be, and the dirty dishes aren’t exactly overflowing the sink. It’s a ten minute job max. You’ll allow her another five minutes to cry into the dishwater, just so you can put off looking at her and having to acknowledge the swollen skin around her eyes. It just makes you a little uncomfortable. Like please - this is a workplace and she is in the maids kitchen where anyone can walk in. For Christ sakes _you’re_ still in here, planning out the schedule for the coming week. _Have a bit of decorum Adelaide._

And you know you should feel bad for her, have a little empathy, but frankly you just don’t. You don’t feel anything for her except awkwardness, disgust, and irritation. She is slow, she is emotional, she is inefficient, and she can’t carry out the most basic task of any good servant – minding only your own business and what the Lady of the house has instructed you to take care of.  
Watching her juddering shoulders, you allow your lip to curl. 

No matter. You have no doubt that she will not be around for much longer.

  
You grab her attention with a curt bark of her name, and when she swivels around to peer at you through bloodshot eyes you instruct her to go to her chambers for the evening. You start scrubbing the dishes she didn’t get to before the heavy door has even shut behind the maid. Cleaning the kitchen doesn’t take long, your movements are quick and deft after so many years performing the same tasks. Soon you are carrying out the finishing touches and swiping a mop across the flagstone floor. And then, time to blow the candles out and take your leave.

Before retiring for the night, you like to take one final look around the stately house and make sure everything is in order. You run a tight ship and train the girls the best you can, but with so many coming and going – well, sometimes mistakes can happen. 

Casting a critical eye over the entrance hall, you are pleased to see nothing visibly out of place. You keep your footsteps light as you begin to traverse the main stairs. It wouldn’t do to disturb your Lady and Mistresses. You nod approvingly as you see the banister has indeed been freshly waxed, honeyed brown of the wood shining under the flickering glow of the grand chandelier. You’ll have to mention it to Ana in the morning. The girl is shaping up to be quite a hard worker, and she hasn’t cried since her first day. All in all, quite promising.

The door handles shine, the wall of mirrors wields not a speck of dust, and the rusted droplets spilled over the rug adorning the hallway of the Lady’s chambers have been successfully scrubbed from existence. The girls have done well today, which means _you_ have done well today. Satisfied with the days work, you finally tread softly back to your own room up on the attic floor.

The attic is where all the maids sleep. The girls share twin rooms, two narrow beds with just barely enough room to squeeze in a wash basin and two night stands. There are ten girls currently under your Lady’s employ, and they all share a larger washroom with the bath. Frankly they should consider themselves lucky Lady Dimitrescu is so giving – most maids of such low stature barely even receive proper beds at all. 

Your own room is shared with no one, a perk of being her Lady’s most experienced help. And, of course, for being in charge of the other girls. Your chambers are nothing to scoff at. You have your own personal bath, which is sectioned off from the room by a divider, and your bed is soft. The toilet just outside your bedroom is for your use only, and as well as food and board the lady gives you an allowance of money on every new month. 

Your life with her Lady and her daughters in their castle is good. It is better than most. You only wish the girls could see that, and understand that if they could just – just stop being so _foolish_ , learn to obey her Lady without question and hesitation, then things could be good for them too. It is as easy as just minding your own business. What the Lady and Mistresses do in the cellar, where the maids go when they quit, is not the helps concern. 

But, you sigh as you change into your nightgown, in the end it isn’t your problem.

Adapt or die.

The girls either learn or they don’t. This is always how it is.


End file.
